


Russian Next Door

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: RusAme Oneshots [8]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Trans Anya, Trans Female Character, Trans Russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey," he called across the empty street, grinning in that way that made girls’ knees weak.</p><p>The woman looked up from the mail, tilting her head at the man yelling strange things at her. Alfred waved, hoping she would come over and talk. Instead, she smirked and called something in Russian before heading back into the house. </p><p>Despite her thin hips, she had this killer sway in her step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Russian Next Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomeBratInAMask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/gifts).



Alfred had caught sight of her in his boxers. He was getting his mail, coffee in one hand, the other holding his bathrobe closed. It was morning, and he was late for work, and the guy across the street had just gotten married.  


And there she was, in her own bathrobe. She had long hair, light blond, long legs, and the largest set of shoulders Alfred had seen this side of the football field. For whatever reason, Alfred wished he was wearing something more than a pair of boxers and a thin robe.

“Hey,” he called across the empty street, grinning in that way that made girls’ knees weak.

The woman looked up from the mail, tilting her head at the man yelling strange things at her. Alfred waved, hoping she would come over and talk. Instead, she smirked and called something in Russian before heading back into the house. 

Despite her thin hips, she had this killer sway in her step. 

Alfred was a programmer, so he worked from home most days. And by ‘worked from home,’ he meant more working out in his garage and cruising around town on his motorcycle. It wasn’t a bad life, he could go out most nights and get drunk, then do some code he didn’t remember in the morning.

Today, he was in search for food. He strolled through the aisles of the store, grabbing as many carbs as he could lay his hands on. After all, he worked out, he needed to keep his caloric intake in. Twinkies were just an easy and delicious way to do this.

A flash of long blonde hair. 

Alfred looked up from the selections of cookies. He hurried down, peaking around to catch sight of the same woman from a couple of mornings ago. She was looking at the stacks of Gold Fish, a look of faint horror on her face.

America grinned and waltzed over. She didn’t look over for a moment, and when she did, she raised an eyebrow expectantly. She was taller than him by three inches. Her makeup made her face look narrow and her eyes cat-like. 

“Alfred F. Jones, at your service.” He stuck a hand out, grinning.

Her eyes flicked down to the hand. She held up her own, showing the wedding ring. “Married.”

Alfred held up his hands. “I wasn’t asking you on a date! I was just wondering what your name was.”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Married.”

She didn’t speak English. She wasn’t just foreign, she was a _mail order bride_. The guy next door had bought this poor chick, and now she was stuck staring at Gold Fish in America. Alfred laughed, throwing his head back, and by the time he recovered, she was gone. 

Admittedly, not the best way to introduce himself, but she didn’t have to _leave_.

Alfred sulked, eating Twinkies while he pumped iron.

Still, the whole situation next door was interesting. Alfred grinned at his neighbor whenever he saw him leave the house. The neighbor, an older forty year old, pressed his lips together and hurried on. Serves him right, scumbag. 

But the wife—whoever she was—was around town. She jogged, and Alfred almost crashed his motorcycle when he first saw her. She went shopping often and stuck to loose dresses and ballet flats. 

Alfred tried again two weeks later. This time, she was running by his house on her running route, and Alfred decided to join her. He had trouble keeping up with her stride, but she didn’t need to know that.

She rolled her eyes. “Back?”

Alfred grinned, skipping ahead and running backwards. “You beta’cha, babe. What’s your name?”

Her eyes were straight ahead. “Anya. Mrs. Anya Gittsburg.” 

Alfred nodded. “Ah, yes, that ring. So, what, you’re a mail order bride? You know—“ He nearly tripped, “—I don’t judge. Girl’s gotta’ do what a girl’s gotta’ do.”

Anya gritted her teeth. “You mocking?”

“What?”

Anya punched him, right in the side of the face. Alfred cursed and nearly fell on his ass, but he was too fucking graceful for that shit, so he sort of spun and stood back up. He held his jaw, feeling his face heat up with anger.

“What the fuck?!”

Anya had stopped running, looking at him disdainfully. “I am girl.”

Alfred clenched his fist. “You fucking bitch! I was saying I don’t judge you for fucking marrying a forty year old to come to America! God damn, you punch like a motha’ humpa’!” He poked his jaw. “Fuck!” 

“Oh.”

“Fuck your ‘oh!’” 

Anya shrugged and continued running. Alfred followed, each heartbeat making his face throb. “Hey! _Hey_! I think you owe me a fucking apology! That was assault, I could report you to the police for that shit and get you shipped back to Russia.”

Anya scoffed. “You harassing me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I was making polite fucking conversation.” Alfred pouted, watching her run from behind for a few moments. “Does your husband know about…”

Anya sped up slightly. “You annoying.” 

And then she fucking outran him. Alfred watched her start to gain feet, him dying behind her trying to keep up, and then she turned and she was fucking gone. Alfred leaned against a stop sign, gasping for breath. He was a weight resistance man, not a fucking cardio man. 

A few mornings later, they saw each other at the mail boxes again. She was wearing something skimpy under her robe. Alfred wolf whistled and she gave him the middle finger, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

>  **From reincarnatedrainbow:** Trans woman Anya and 0% suave Alfred


End file.
